


with the rising of the sea

by blue--phantom (twilightscribe)



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Anders Dies, Blue Hawke, Canonical Character Death, Drabble Sequence, Dragon Age Kink Meme, Falling In Love, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Mages and Templars, One Shot, Prompt Fill, Retelling, Romance, Spirit Healer Hawke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-27
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-12-20 16:12:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11924526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightscribe/pseuds/blue--phantom
Summary: Sebastian cannot help but be impressed when he meets Hawke the first time.





	with the rising of the sea

Sebastian cannot help but be impressed when he meets Hawke the first time.

He walks into the Chantry and there is sadness behind his smile. Something that Sebastian finds intriguing, because he finds that he wants to know _more_ about this man; this man who so easily reached out to help him. Who humbly declined his offer of a reward, stating that it was more than enough to know that his actions had brought Sebastian peace.

Yes, Hawke is unlike any man that Sebastian has ever met. Or will ever meet, he thinks.

Elthina dismisses him, "Little more than one more fortune seeker. Guard yourself well, Sebastian, for you have opened yourself to such men before and it has always led to your ruin."

He knows not what to say in response to that.

 

 

 

Though it's silly of him – and goes against the grand cleric's wishes – he keeps track of Hawke through the years. He regrets, upon learning of the Deep Roads expedition, that he did not volunteer himself then and there. The danger would have been worth it; he would have been able to repay the kindness that Hawke had shown him.

And yet... he finds that unnecessary.

Hawke comes to the chantry. Sebastian sees him in the back, silent and glassy-eyed as he stares at the statue that dominates the area behind the pulpit. His eyes glitter in the lamplight, but he says nothing. And something about his demeanour keeps away the other congregants.

As the days pass, the sight of him becomes too much for Sebastian to bear.

"Serah Hawke," he greets softly.

Hawke blinks, tears glistening on his long lashes, and starts. He sits up a little straighter, clears his throat, but cannot hide the way that it shakes, "Sebastian, I didn't – was there something you needed?"

"I'm humbled that you remember me," Sebastian continues. He gestures at the empty pew beside Hawke. "May I join you?"

"Yes, yes of course."

The words come too fast, tumbling together.

Sebastian hides his wince and takes his seat, crossing his hands in his lap and staring ahead at the blazing sun on its crimson cloth. He continues to speak softly, so that they may not be overheard, "I am allowed to hear confession, serah. Anything you say would be held in complete confidence."

He sneaks a glance at Hawke out of the corner of his eye, sees how the man slumps in his chair and thins his lips. The way that his face contorts into a grimace of pure anguish, his eyes squeezed shut and tears caught in his lashes.

Something has happened, but Sebastian knows not what it is. All he can offer is his ear, a possible shoulder to lean on.

"I wouldn't even know where to begin," Hawke breathes.

"You can start at the beginning," Sebastian suggests. "Or not at all. I won't force you to talk, if that is not what you want. I can simply sit here, if that's enough." _Or leave_.

But it pains him to think that.

 

 

 

"My sister was an apostate."

Sebastian says nothing. Simply continues to stare ahead. He's surprised at this admission; few would admit to harbouring an apostate, much less to a brother of the chantry.

"She... Bethany. Bethany was..." He swallows hard, then continues, his voice rough. "When we fled Ferelden, she... there was an ogre. There was nothing I could do."

_I'm sorry_ seems so hollow. Sebastian bites his tongue, refuses to speak empty words, but lays a gentle hand on Hawke's shoulder, which heaves under his touch. He yearns to lean in, to offer more than such a simple touch, and nearly reels away at the thought – at the _urge_ to do so.

Hawke stares at his hands, which tremble before him. He has strong hands, Sebastian notes, callused from years of hard work and fighting. Hawke has not led an easy life, that much is evident.

"And my mother... she blames me," Hawke says. "It was my fault. I could have done more – done _something_ but I... I _couldn't_. She was... she was just _gone_. Anything that I could have done... she was... was gone before she even hit the ground."

Hawke brushes away the tears, almost angry at the sight of them. He sucks in a deep breath through clenched teeth, "I-I'm sorry, I shouldn't be..."

"You don't need to apologize for your grief," Sebastian says. "It's only natural. And as I said, I will listen as long as you need me to." Sebastian squeezes Hawke's shoulder, his other hand balling into a fist at his side, unseen. "Unfortunately, I cannot speak for your mother, but I'm certain that you did all you could for Bethany."

"... thank you," Hawke murmurs. His hand, unexpectedly, comes to rest on top of Sebastian's and returns the comforting pressure. "I miss her."

Sebastian says nothing, simply sits quietly with Hawke.

 

 

 

Through their talks, Sebastian learns more and more of the man known as Hawke.

And, slowly but surely, he finds himself falling for him.

 

 

 

Carver comes next. A recent shadow that has fallen over the Hawke family. Another life lost, another sibling to mourn.

More blame for Hawke to shoulder.

“I should have been stronger,” Hawke says. “He may have hated me for the rest of his life, but at least he would have still been alive.”

“You could not have anticipated what happened,” Sebastian says softly. “It’s useless to torment yourself thinking of what could have been.”

And he can relate to Hawke’s grief, his pain. He knows well what it feels like to lose everything and everyone you have ever loved; to wonder if he could have made a difference by being there. He _should_ have been there. He could have done something.

Sebastian knows well that there was nothing he could have done. Had he been there, he would simply be one more body on the pyre with the rest of his family.

“I know, but… I can’t stop replaying it. Thinking that I should have done something – _could have_ done something.” Hawke stares down at his hands, as though they might change what has come to pass. He falls silent for a stretch of time, then finally asks quietly, “Does it ever get easier?”

He reflects upon the ache inside of his own chest, that wound that will never close.

“A little. The pain is less intense, but it never truly gets away. You simply learn to live with it.”

 

 

 

"I should probably tell you," Hawke says one night. "That I'm an apostate."

Sebastian stares. Then, "Oh."

He supposes he should have been more eloquent. But it's too late now.

"Does that surprise you?"

He pauses for a moment, mulling it over, then simply says, "No."

"And you don't have an issue with it? I won't have templars showing up at my doorstep, will I?"

Sebastian's almost affronted, "I would never-!"

But he stops when he sees the small smile on Hawke's face, the way that his eyes crinkle at the edges, and that there's a spark in his eyes that Sebastian has never seen before – never in the two years that they have been having these conversations.

"I know you wouldn't, Sebastian," Hawke says. "I trust you."

 

_I trust you_.

The words echo and tumble around Sebastian's head. They settle, eventually, low in his chest where they hum and emit a warmth of their own.

Strange what three little words can do.

 

 

 

"He has done much good for the city," Elthina admits, late one afternoon. "Perhaps I was a little harsh in my immediate judgment of him. He comes from good stock; I remember the Amells from when I was a little girl, such a shame, what happened to them."

Sebastian blinks, "What happened to the Amells?"

"Oh, you hadn't heard? Leandra – Hawke's mother – eloped with an apostate. And then, of course, her cousin had seven children – all taken to the Circle.” Elthina shakes her head sadly, “I’m afraid that the family fell to ruin after that; too much magic in their blood. But it’s good to see that Leandra’s son is continuing the family’s legacy after so many decades tainted by their association with magic.”

He bites his tongue. He made a promise; to argue with Elthina now would reveal Hawke's secret.

_I trust you_.

And he will not betray Hawke's trust. Not to anyone. Not even the grand cleric.

"Yes... what a shame," Sebastian echoes, though his heart is certainly not in it.

"I can see that you are tempted to go to his side," Elthina continues, smiling. "You would like some adventure, would you not?"

Sebastian starts and looks away, shame bleeding through him that he's so transparent, "I have... been thinking of offering him my services. It's the least I could do, after what he has done for me."

"I cannot say I approve of all his dealings," Elthina says slowly. "But he seems a good man at heart. You have my blessing, Sebastian, if you would like to help him. But do remember: you represent the Chantry. Do us proud."

 

 

 

As a child, all Sebastian wanted was to make his parents and grandparents proud. Then, he had wanted nothing more than to make the grand cleric proud. Now... now all he wants is to feel _worthy_ of Hawke's trust.

Once more, Hawke steps up, volunteering to help him when no one else would. And, again, he expects nothing in response.

"You are a stronger man than I," Sebastian says, later.

It's just the two of them, walking the streets of Hightown back to the Chantry.

"What makes you say that?"

"That... that demon. I felt it's touch. I knew its draw. I can easily see myself having been tempted by it, had you not been there."

Hawke claps him on the shoulder, smiles at him broadly, "No, you wouldn't. You're stronger than you give yourself credit for, Sebastian."

His heart flutters in his chest, and Sebastian wonders if Hawke would say that if he knew what lurks within the deepest and darkest corners of Sebastian's heart.

_"I can give you the power to claim all that you desire. All that you long for could so easily be yours. I can make it so._ "

Those had been the desire demon's words. And Sebastian had known, then, that it had glimpsed that secret that hides within him; that despite his vows, his title – his _responsibilities_ – that he would throw them all away if that meant that he could have Hawke.

Sebastian is no stranger to desire. Once, he would have given little thought to anything but slaking his carnal desires and his thirst for flesh. Had he met Hawke but a few years earlier, he would have had little issue with pursuing the man aggressively and practically throwing himself at his feet if it meant having him for a night.

But he is a different man now. And he recognizes that he cannot have Hawke. For Hawke deserves a man not bound by vows that he no longer feels he can keep; a man who could love him freely and give him all that he is. There are too many chains about him now – duty, responsibility, the Chantry, _Elthina_ – for him to be able to freely give himself wholly and completely to Hawke.

Oh, but how he _wants_ to.

 

 

 

"So, choirboy," Varric greets him. "You gotta tell me: how much of that sweet, innocent act of yours is exactly that? An act?"

"Have you seen through me so quickly?" Sebastian jokes. "I had hoped to keep my more worldly past a secret."

"Ha! Rivaini owes me! I bet that you had a past! Now spill. And don't spare me the nitty, gritty. I want all the details."

"Ah, our pasts matter not once we join the Chantry," Sebastian continues, fighting back his smile. "I'm afraid that I'm not that person anymore."

"Oh come on, I bet there's some dashing rogue still in there _somewhere_. There's gotta be!"

 

 

 

With Hawke, his eyes are opened.

Sebastian had thought little of the plight of mages, and will admit this readily. Upon joining the Chantry, he had sworn to uphold Andraste's teachings, but things change. He hadn't fallen for an apostate when he had made those vows; he hadn't found himself in the company of three of them.

Merrill is sweet to a fault, peppering him with questions about the Chantry and the Maker. Some of the questions she asks require him to dig, to do research, to become much more knowledgeable about the Chant than he has ever been. Their discussions are highly theological, likely making the heads of those around them spin.

"You know, I never would have thought that Daisy and Choirboy would get along so well," Varric comments. "I thought that the whole apostate-elven-mage situation would freak him out a little."

Anders snorts, "I don't think that anyone could dislike Merrill. Well, unless they know that–"

"Blondie, don't go there. Let them enjoy themselves. It's harmless."

"But she's–"

" _Anders_."

Hawke's single word ends the argument then and there.

 

 

 

"How can you support the Chantry when they shackle mages as they do?"

"I will admit," Sebastian begins slowly. "That I have given little thought to the plight of mages."

Anders snorts, " _Of course_ , you haven't. Why would you have to? Living a gilded life in Starkhaven then being shipped to the Chantry as you were."

"You could say we are alike in that," Sebastian continues. "Neither of us chose the Chantry or the Circle, the decision was made for us. I found the Chantry suited me; gave me a purpose that I lacked in life. I know not what you found in the Circle, but I understand it was unhappy."

"We are _nothing_ alike," Anders hisses. He jabs a finger at Sebastian's chest, "You could have left the Chantry any time you wanted to. I had no choice but to remain in the Circle; and when I tried to leave, look what happened to me. My life has been dictated by others – you've been nothing but coddled your whole life; first by your family, then by the grand cleric. Do not speak like you know what my life was like."

It seems that he and Anders are fated to never get along.

Sebastian resists the urge to push Anders' hand away, "Very well, then. I will not. But do not speak as though you know my life, either."

"Of course not, _your highness_."

 

 

 

Sebastian spends a long length of time in seclusion after that.

 

 

 

"I heard about your fight with Anders," Hawke says, sitting next to him in the small courtyard of the Chantry. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Sebastian replies, with a smile that doesn't quite fit his face. "I realize now that I spoke hastily and without thought. And for that, you have my apology."

"You don't need to apologize to me."

Sebastian sighs, "I... as I said, I have given little thought to the plight of mages. But... being – _traveling_ with you has changed things. I can no longer overlook it as I once did."

Hawke blinks, "Should you be admitting this to me? Here?"

"It matters not. I am content with my place in the Chantry and do not seek advancement," Sebastian says, shrugging. "But I cannot lie to you, Hawke. I will always be honest with you, as you have been with me."

Once more, Hawke smiles and it makes Sebastian's heart flutter in his chest.

 

_I love you_. The words echo in his head. _I love you_.

The yearning to speak them eats away at him, at his resolve. He finds them on the tip of his tongue at the worst of times.

But the time never seems right.

 

 

 

Then there is Leandra.

 

 

 

Sebastian comes looking for Hawke, only to be told that he's out on business.

"Ah, you must be Sebastian then?"

Leandra is an attractive woman for her age. Despite the grey of her hair, she has a noblewoman's grace and a sweetness that he recognizes as having been pased on to her son. She smiles warmly at him and holds out her hand.

He bows, takes her hand, and kisses the back of it, "I am, indeed. It's a pleasure to meet you, madame."

Leandra smiles and giggles, "Thank you, certainly. It's been a number of years since anyone has greeted me so."

"It's only what you deserve," Sebastian replies, straightening up and returning her smile.

"You must come in. I've heard so much about you."

He cannot help but stop, frozen in place, "I – Hawke speaks of me? Often?"

She laughs, the sound reminiscent of the chantry's bells, "Oh, I hardly hear talk of anyone else! He's always 'Sebastian this' and 'Sebastian that'. He doesn't speak of many others with such warmth and frequency."

"Oh. I hadn't..."

Leandra takes him with a careful eye, hands on her hips, then nods her head.

"I thought as much. You're in love with my son."

His mind screeches to a halt. He reels back, nearly stumbles over his own feet.

"I – I beg your pardon?"

"Now, now. There's no point in lying to me, young man," Leandra scolds lightly. "I'm certainly not going to show you the door or throw you out bodily into the street while yelling at you to never come near my son again. He's a grown man, as are you."

Sebastian swallows, "How...?"

"It's in your face, your eyes," she says. Then laughs again softly, "I was in love once, too. I recognize the look. And you wear it well."

"But... I... I can't..."

"You can't what? Tell him? My son certainly is smitten with you," Leandra says. "He talks about you as he's talked about no one else. I know him well; he deserves to be happy, and if you make him so, then I will do whatever I must to make certain it continues."

Sebastian swallows, hard, "I... have vows, responsibilities..."

"As does my son," Leandra continues. She steps towards him, cups his cheek in her hand gently and smiles at him softly. "As I did, once. But your happiness comes before any of those; my son and you deserve happiness. Find it together."

There's a lump in his throat that he finds he can't speak past. His eyes burn, but he blinks back the tears. All he can do is nod his head numbly.

"Good, now... I think it's time that the two of us spoke. Garrett should be home by this evening. And of course, you're welcome at dinner, Sebastian."

"Thank you."

He's humbled by her kindness, her words, the way that she simply and easily opens her home to him.

"All I ask is that you leave your bow at the door. There will be no weapons in my house, understood?"

"Of course, ma'am."

"Leandra, please."

 

 

 

His happiness is short-lived.

 

 

 

"My mother...." Hawke's voice is choked in his throat.

Sebastian immediately goes for his quiver, for his bow. "Lead the way."

 

 

 

Leandra is almost unrecognizable. She must be in unimaginable pain; if she can even feel it.

He reacts without thought, draws an arrow even as Hawke stares at horror at what has become of his mother, and lets it fly. There is rage burning deep within him, that curdles deep in his stomach; a rage that he has not known since the death of his own family. But this... this burns hotter, reaches deeper.

Leandra deserved better; Hawke deserved better.

His arrow finds its mark, piercing straight through the blood mage's throat. His arrow is joined by a bolt from Bianca, by a fist of rock from Merrill, and a blade of ice from Anders. He goes down before Hawke needs to draw his stave; Aveline and Fenris only sheathe their weapons once he hits the ground, blood pooling around him as he gurgles his last breath.

Hawke is blind to it all; he only has eyes for his mother.

Leandra stumbles the few steps between them, collapsing into Hawke's arms. He bears her to the ground, cradling her close.

It feels so awkward, so painful, and Sebastian's heart is cracking in his throat as he lowers his bow.

He is left feeling helpless once more.

 

 

 

Sebastian sits vigil while Hawke sleeps.

By the fireplace, Aveline and Fenris sit in armchairs, slumped over and sleeping. Merrill is curled up at Aveline's feet, while Isabela is sprawled out across the carpet in front of the hearth with Hawke's mabari.

The chair is one that he took from the kitchen, hard-backed and uncomfortable, but Sebastian is beyond caring. He's exhausted, his limbs ache, and his eyes burn from the tears that he won't – _can't_ – shed.

He presses a hand to Hawke's forehead and, Maker bless, his hand presses against clammy, but cool skin. The fever has _finally_ broken.

"Did I... worry you...?"

Hawke's eyes are at half-mast, the normally bright amber dull from sleep, illness, and grief. He lets his head loll to the side so that he can see Sebastian.

"You did," Sebastian admits, voice low. It cracks, betraying the depth of his own pain.

"M'sorry."

"Don't be."

He mourns for what could have been. But Leandra's words still echo loudly in his ears. And he wonders: is he being selfish? Could this be the right time? He may never have another chance. Sebastian knows, looking at Hawke, that time is ticking down; they're running out of this time that they have, where everything is simple. Where he is still Sebastian, and Hawke is still Hawke.

Sebastian's not sure how he knows that, but he looks at the tired lines about Hawke's eyes and mouth and knows: Hawke needs _something_. Some reason to continue going, to keep putting one foot in front of another. And who better to understand, to be there, than him? After all, he knows what it's like, to lose everything and everyone you have ever loved.

They're two beings that are too much alike. It may never work, but Sebastian has never met a man like Hawke before.

He hesitates, then lets his hand cup the side of Hawke's face, "You don't ever need to apologize to me, Hawke."

Hawke's eyes drift closed and he leans into the touch, drinking it in greedily.

"Thank you," he murmurs. "For being here."

"I will always be by your side, Hawke. No matter what comes."

 

 

 

It happens without thinking, without a thought.

Hawke blows out a breath, staring across the throne room at the Arishok, "I have to do this."

"I know."

"You're not going to stop me."

"I could not, even if I wanted to. Which I do," Sebastian admits.

His actions are braver than he is. He reaches out, tangles a hand in the hair at the back of Hawke's neck, and pulls him into a kiss.

 

 

 

With blood bubbling up past his lips, Hawke smiles, "You should kiss me like that more often."

Anders swears under his breath, pressing his hands against the wounds in Hawke's stomach, "Is now really the time, Hawke?!"

"I might not..." Hawke winces. "... get another chance."

"Haw – Garrett," Sebastian corrects himself. He takes the man's face between his hands, "You will not leave me now. Do you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," Garrett replies, smiling. "Will you kiss me again? Please?"

"Only if you promise me you won't die."

"Don't know if I can go making promises like that," Garrett admits, flinching again. He keeps trying to wiggle away from Anders' hands. "But I'll do my best. Don't want you to be upset with me."

Sebastian leans down.

Garrett tastes of the bitter copper of blood. But Sebastian doesn't care.

He's alive. That's all that matters.

 

 

 

He lies in bed, with Garrett curled up against him – warm and alive – whose head rests on Sebastian's shoulder while an arm is wrapped around his waist. The light from the windows filters in through the heavy curtains, leaving a column of bright golden light across the floor and foot of the bed.

Carding a hand through Garrett's hair, Sebastian wonders why it took them so long to come to this point.

"I love you," he says.

Garrett squeezes his waist, "I know. I love you, too. Always have."

"Really?"

"I think I fell in love with you the first time I saw you. You certainly know how to make a first impression."

"I hardly conducted myself with any sort of grace or decorum."

Garrett shrugs, "It was attractive."

"Only you would find my tantrum attractive," Sebastian laughs.

He props himself up, leans in and kisses Sebastian, "Dead sexy, as Isabela would say."

 

 

 

They end up not leaving bed till the early afternoon.

 

 

 

He spends less and less time in the chantry. Most of his time is dedicated to Garrett, simply spending time with the other man or else locked in the seemingly eternal conflict between templar and mage.

After so many years of being in love with an apostate, Sebastian has come to reconcile his faith with his feelings.

Garrett Hawke is a mage worth loving. He deserves freedom, not to live in fear. And Sebastian has come to share that fear, for he wakes in the dead of night afraid that the templars might come and tear the man from their bed.

He sees the madness lurking behind the knight-commander's eyes, and wonders how he could have ever missed it.

There's little to be done, but try to placate the templars and help the mages wherever possible.

Though he has little influence as a mere disgraced brother of the Chantry, Sebastian tries his best to help where he can. He speaks with the mages in the Gallows, and brings their tales and concerns to the grand cleric – who listens with a stony face, before simply telling him that the time to act is close at hand and she will act when it comes.

That time cannot come sooner.

 

 

 

He'd thought little of his association with Garrett being dangerous.

Certainly, being openly involved with an apostate is dangerous. But he'd thought little of it making him a target.

That is, until he takes a blow to the back of the head in the Gallows.

 

 

 

He wakes hours later, to Garrett leaning over him, face creased in worry till he sees Sebastian open his eyes.

"Thank the Maker," he breathes, crushing Sebastian to him.

"I'm sorry," Sebastian offers. "I'm not certain what happened."

Fenris crouches down next to them, bloodied great sword in hand, "You were taken as leverage. Apparently, the thought that they could just _ask_ Hawke was never brought up."

"They wanted my cooperation," Garrett says, taking Sebastian's face between his hands. "To overthrow the knight-commander. So they took you, hoping that would earn it."

Fenris snorts, "That blood mage only wanted revenge; not justice."

His blood runs cold, "Blood mage...?"

"You weren't there; it's not important," Garrett says, kissing his forehead. "Can you stand?"

 

 

 

The Chantry explodes. Anders has made his grave.

 

 

 

"You _used_ him! Used _me_!" Sebastian spits.

"I did! But only because I had to!" Anders snaps. "Someone had to bring things to a head, why not me? Elthina was never going to do anything!"

And Sebastian bites his tongue, because he knows this to be true. How many tales of templar abuses had he heard? Had he brought to the grand cleric? How many times had he pleaded with her to intervene? To do something about Meredith's madness? Her cruelty?

Garrett stares in shock at the smouldering ruins of the Chantry, his eyes wide and mouth agape. Then, he whirls, his face a mask of rage, "And what if _Sebastian_ had been there?!"

Anders takes a step back, hands up, "I didn't – someone had to do _something_!"

"You could have killed him!"

Sebastian has never seen Garrett so angry, not even in the aftermath of Leandra's death. He had been so broken then, so empty, that Sebastian had feared he may not ever recover from the loss. Sparks flicker at his fingertips, his eyes blazing with that glow Sebastian has only seen in battle, only when Garrett uses his magic to heal.

Garrett is a healer, not a killer. Sebastian knows this well. Death does not sit well with him unless warranted.

Sebastian lays a hand on Garrett's shoulder, "Garrett–"

"No! He could have taken _everything_ from me!" Garrett turns angry, pleading eyes on Sebastian. He grabs his shoulders, shaking him then crushes him to his chest, "I could have lost you. I could have... I could have..."

And it's all Sebastian can do to hold him close. To hold him until the trembling stops.

 

 

 

Anders does not plead his case. He simply accepts the consequences of his actions.

Aveline deals the killing blow, though Sebastian feels that right should have been Garrett's. He says nothing, though, and simply stands mute beside Garrett as the deed is carried out.

"The mages," Garrett says. "We need to save them. They've done _nothing_ to deserve this."

Sebastian nods, “I’m with you, Garrett.”

 

 

 

It may the last moments he has with Garrett.

He presses his forehead to Garrett's, says, "I will never regret loving you, Garrett Hawke."

"And I will always love you, Sebastian Vael."

**Author's Note:**

>  **Words:** 4895 words
> 
> Written for [this prompt](https://dragonage-kink.dreamwidth.org/83019.html?thread=328407883#cmt328407883) on the Dragon Age kink meme, because as we all know, I have a weakness for kink memes and an even bigger one for Sebastian/m!Hawke. It... might not be exactly what the filler requested (and I have no idea if they're even still around) but that's what I do; go about filling ancient prompts on the kink meme. I'm the fill fairy, I guess.
> 
> There... might be more to this? I might be planning a series? I don't know. All I know is that I wrote this entire thing in one evening, edited it this morning, then posted it. So any errors are my own.


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